


Baby, We’ll Be Fine

by lemonfish



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Morning After, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-01-25 23:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12544148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonfish/pseuds/lemonfish
Summary: Merlin has the mother of all hangovers.





	1. In my Sauvignon, fierce, freaking out

**Author's Note:**

> T for language. Unbeta-ed, uneverything-ed. 
> 
> Title from [this track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rwni0kaRlJU) by The National.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has the mother of all hangovers.

Merlin felt himself slowly, agonizingly, unwillingly dragged into consciousness. He was giving consciousness one hell of a fight, though, and he would have won, falling back into a deep, dreamless sleep, had he not heard the sound of a door slamming.

Instinctively responding to the sound, he pried open his eyes and found himself staring at a nightstand that was too ornate to be his.

_Where the fuck —_

He bolted from the bed to assess his surroundings — which, in retrospect, turned out to be the worst thing he could have done. Searing pain went through Merlin's head; a little caveman trapped inside his skull tried to punch his way out; or at least it felt like it. ‘Ow’, he said out loud to nobody in particular. The act of speaking brought to his attention that his mouth tasted like something had died in it over the course of the night. _That can't be good._

Moving very slowly, so as not to agitate whatever other violent things might be rattling around inside his skull, he looked around to try to figure out where he was. Much too many pillows on the bed for his liking. A butterfly on the wall. That should ring a bell, but now Merlin’s afraid that that might just make his headache worse. _I’m a fucking spy_ , he thought to himself. _Surely I can figure out_ —

His train of thought was interrupted by a rustling at the foot of the bed.

It was Mister Pickle.

_I’m at Harry’s._

_Fuck._

Merlin tried to think about what the hell happened the night before that would end up with him waking up on Harry’s bed, having a staredown with his yappy little dog. His memory, trying its level best to do its job but severely hampered by what must have been enough alcohol to intoxicate a small country, supplied disjointed images from a party. They were celebrating his first official run of candidate training and the successful knight that would now join Kingsman. Tristan, Merlin wants to say. There were drinks. Sharing a bottle of criminally expensive whisky with Harry. Harry teasing him about how having to train each new batch of candidates will mean Merlin will tear his hair out in frustration until there's nothing left. They share another bottle. Merlin's touches linger on Harry's shoulder, his arm, his hand, a little more than is appropriate. There's another bottle. And another.

Then he's following Harry into the men’s room, shoving him against the wall, and then trying to kiss Harry’s mouth off of his face. Harry, kissing him back just as hard. Harry coming up for air, pulling away saying 'not here' hot and heavy right in his ear, but slipping a street number in his pocket.

Harry, who was nowhere to be found in the morning.

Merlin, shaking himself from this attempt at remembering, assessed these facts, trying to get the full picture from these sketches. Obviously Harry gave him his home address, and he followed. Then, they proceeded to … do things, as Merlin deduces from the — _is that a bite mark on my shoulder?_ And then the bastard did a runner _from his own house_ because that's how badly he didn’t want to deal with the morning after.

This more than anything sobered Merlin up quickly. He rolled off the bed and searched for his clothes, which were flung all over the room. Having pulled himself into something resembling a normal human being who did not just spend the night with a man from whom he'd been hiding his feelings for the better part of five years, he made his way to the front door.

Which he couldn't open, because Mister Pickle was blocking the way, looking up at him expectantly.

Merlin was always helpless when it came to big brown eyes staring at him asking for something.

Sighing heavily, he went to the kitchen to check if the dog had food or water. His instincts were right: next to the fridge were two empty, clean bowls. Harry probably forgot, in his haste to get out. He filled one with water, and spent the next few minutes looking for dog food, which he eventually found in the cupboard, next to a box of cereal, because of course Harry wouldn't distinguish between his food and Mister Pickle's, the colossal sap.

Once the dog was occupied with sticking his face in his food bowl, Merlin headed out of the flat. He looked around to figure out where he was — of course Harry lived in Kensington — and walked down the street, determined that if Harry wanted to act like none of this happened, then none of this happened. And they’ll see each other at work tomorrow and and it’ll be normal. _I am a spy; I can compartmentalise. It’s fine._

_Just fine._


	2. I put on an argyle sweater, and put on a smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things kind of come to a head.

Merlin hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to Harry since that night. The lucky bugger was sent to Zagreb to blow up some weapons bunkers two days after, and all their communication since then was focused on the mission. If Merlin was a little more tetchy than usual during mission prep, he chalked it up to workplace stress. And if he was tetchy during the mission itself, well, it was an extremely stressful mission.

‘For Christ’s sake, Galahad, I need that prototype laser back in one piece, so would you kindly not use it as a battering ram?’ Merlin said into the microphone.

‘Why do I suspect that by “kindly”, you mean “shove it up your arse”?’ was the rejoinder from Harry as the door finally gave way and he made his way to the mainframe.

Merlin tried not to think about that particularly graphic imagery. ‘In any case. Sending the codes through. Would you kindly enter them and let me know once done?’

‘Done, heading ou— wait. More guards are coming this way. You informed me this bunker had a skeletal force at the most!’

 _That can’t be right_. Merlin pulled up the intel and scanned it again, comparing it to the current situation on the ground. ‘Damn. They must have switched their security protocols not long after we obtained this,’ he muttered angrily, making a mental note to change their infiltration processes.

‘Oh, perfect. I am not equipped for a siege right now, Merlin! What kind of incompetence are you fostering in your departm—’ 

Merlin clenched his fists. That was _it_.

‘The kind where if you don’t shut the fuck up and do exactly as I order you to, you are going to die, or I am going to murder you with my bare hands, whichever comes first!’

Harry was stunned into silence. So was Merlin. He’d never blown up at any agent like that before; hell, he’d never blown up at Harry like that before, even in jest. Merlin closed his eyes briefly, begged for patience, and reminded himself to focus on the mission. He looked at the schematics and found a way out.

‘All right, now that I have your attention; there’s a hidden exit in the wall next to the console. I can lock it behind you remotely to give you more time to escape …’

Eventually, Harry completed his mission with no more fuss, escaping the bunker relatively unscathed, despite (or because of) Merlin’s threats. Once he was sure that the agent was safely on the way back to England, Merlin took the rest of the day off, focusing all his pent-up anger on his project: getting an ordinary umbrella to shoot rubber bullets. Ones that hurt. A _lot_.

* * *

Despite all his training in situational awareness, Merlin loses track of the rest of the world when he’s engrossed in tinkering, so when he heard a tentative knock at the door it startled him enough that he dropped his screwdriver. ‘Come in,’ he beckoned, not bothering to get up from the floor where he’d been sitting putting the umbrella back together.

‘I brought your prototype back,’ Harry said by way of greeting, gently setting it on Merlin’s desk. ‘In one piece. Mostly.’

‘Hmph,’ Merlin grunted, not looking up from his work.

Harry sat himself on the floor next to Merlin. ‘I was hoping you would pay more attention to me so I can make the proper apologies.’

This piqued Merlin’s interest, and he finally looked at Harry, who was none the worse for wear except for a few scuffs on his chin. Merlin wanted to reach out and touch them, but kept his hands on the umbrella.

‘I’m the one who should apologise for my behaviour, Harry —’ Merlin started, but Harry cut him off.

‘We both know that’s not the case.’

They sat in silence for a few moments, Merlin fidgeting with the umbrella handle, waiting for Harry to speak again.

‘It’s unbelievable that I could — God. What an idiot. I know we all make mistakes, but I should have faced up to mine immediately. I cannot even imagine what you must think of me.’

 _Oh, good, he thinks sleeping together was a mistake. Well done._ In his heart of hearts, Merlin had been hoping that Harry would _at least_ ask for a repeat performance, and in the best case scenario, declare undying love for him. It seemed he’d be getting neither. He summoned up courage to keep a blank face, hold Harry’s gaze, and to say nothing instead of punching him in the nose.

Harry let out a sigh, as if what he was about to say took up all his reserves of energy. ‘You are my closest friend in this whole blasted agency. I don’t want our friendship — and your standing — compromised because of a drunken night and my terrible reaction to it. Will you forgive me?’

‘You realise you have not actually apologised at any point in this conversation.’

‘You are _such_ a stickler. Fine. If you must. I’m sorry for running out on you. I hope I have not ruined our friendship by doing so.’

That’s the thing. They have been incredibly good friends, ever since Harry, the newest Kingsman at the time, stormed into the tech department to loudly complain about how he was allergic to the fabric used in his bulletproof suit and did not leave Merlin alone until he synthesised a completely new textile just for his delicate poncy arse. Harry, duly impressed, had said ‘I’m going to have to come up with some more interesting challenges for you,’ and spent the next few months bursting into Merlin's office with ridiculous demands, and the quartermaster never failed to deliver. Merlin, who’d been getting lonely and bored in tech, had welcomed the intrusion into his daily routine, and eventually, his life, as Harry kept showing up at his office to hide from Arthur, avoid doing his paperwork, or just spend time with Merlin as he worked on his latest projects. Merlin was not quite sure when it happened, but eventually he couldn't imagine life without the prat.

So if Harry was willing to be big enough to seek forgiveness, looking at Merlin with those sad puppy dog eyes, then who was Merlin to let his ill-defined feelings get in the way of their friendship? Especially if there was a possibility that Arthur could get wind of these feelings and use them against him?

Merlin hoped the half-smile on his face would hide any traces of his internal turmoil. ‘All right. Consider yourself forgiven. And we will never speak of it again. Pass me the screwdriver, if you please.’

Harry chuckled in relief. ‘Gladly.’

‘Er, this is a wrench.’

‘I don’t recall having to identify your extremely particular tools as part of my remit as a Kingsman,’ Harry huffed indignantly.

‘Even a child knows what a screwdriver is, you berk.’

To Merlin’s relief, the banter came easily to him and it felt almost as if things were back to normal. Except for a constant, keening thrum of loss in the back of his mind that didn’t seem to go away, like background static, and that he would studiously ignore.

And he did a good job of it.

Mostly.


	3. Come over, I need entertaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry never did read the Kingsman bylaws, but it works out for Merlin.

‘I cannot believe he pulled you out of duty for an entire month,’ Merlin said to Harry from behind his desk. ‘The only reason this stealth mission turned into a manhunt for your Eastern Europe cover is because of me.’

‘Oh, Arthur was perfectly clear that he blames you,’ Harry replied nonchalantly, as he poured himself a scotch from Merlin’s bar. ‘If it had not been for our protocols, he would have turned his ire directly to you instead of me.’

Merlin should have been used to it by now, but every time he’s reminded of Arthur’s dislike of him, it hurts. He supposed it was natural to be a little insecure, since he was surrounded by old money and Englishness and he never felt like he fit in. Not until Harry, anyway, who never made him feel out of place, even as Arthur never wasted a chance to remind Merlin he wasn’t one of them, not _really_.

‘It doesn’t matter what he thinks, you know,’ Harry said, in a surprisingly reassuring tone, markedly different from his earlier casualness. Merlin realised that his agitation must have shown on his face, however briefly, and that Harry must have picked up on it. The man was truly too perceptive for his own good, but Merlin appreciated the attempt to cheer him up.

But he felt like he had to explain himself. ‘If it means me being turfed out of Kingsman the second he has a reason to, it rather does.’

‘I would enjoy seeing him try. Kingsman’s tech would fall apart the moment you walk out the door.’

‘I’m glad you think I’m that indispensable, Harry. But the moment Arthur has hold of anything that would compromise me … well.’ He tried to shrug it off, but he couldn’t hide his worry. Worry that Arthur would find out about his liaison with Harry. Or worse, his _feelings_.

Merlin noticed Harry looking at him intently over his glass of scotch as he drank, and tried to school his expression into neutrality as he searched for a segue into any other topic of conversation.

‘My mother gave me that for my 25th birthday, you know. I haven’t even tried it yet and you’ve almost finished the bottle.’ Merlin knew that protesting to Harry regarding personal space was pointless, but he had to try.

In response, Harry poured a glass for Merlin as well. ‘Let’s rectify that, then. To my suspension,’ he said, raising his glass.

‘May you use your time off wisely.’

They both laughed for what felt like an age.

* * *

Two weeks later, Merlin fell ill.

Not that he was admitting it to himself and others for the first few days. But the sneezing and the coughing did not go unnoticed by his techs, who, having had enough on the third day, all set up their workbenches as far away from his office as possible and only communicated with him remotely.

‘This is ridiculous; I’m in perfectly fine health,’ he protested at the monitors, as he let out an almighty sneeze.

‘Go to the doctor, sir,’ they said into their microphones, from a safe distance.

’Nonsense,’ he said as he locked himself in his office.

Emrys, who was always the tech most likely to take Merlin to task, barged into his office a few minutes later with a Kingsman doctor in tow. ‘There’s the patient, doctor. Please, tell him he’s sick and send him home.’

The doctor took one look at Merlin and handed him a bottle of pills. ‘You have a chest infection. Take these every four hours, and for God’s sake, go home and don’t infect anybody else.’

‘Don’t worry about the handlers, sir. Everything is taken care of,’ Emrys said, trying to reassure him.

Merlin would have agreed, but he was thrust deep in the throes of a coughing fit and could not respond, so Emrys bundled him into a waiting car and took him straight home.

He woke up on his sofa a few hours later to the sound of the doorbell. He felt terrible; the medicine he took had not taken effect yet, and he was going to kill the person at his doorstep.

‘Go away!’ he yelled at the door, but what came out was more of a gravelly rasp.

‘I know you’re in there. Let me in.’

_What the hell is Harry doing here?_

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Merlin asked, once he was able to get up and open the door.

‘I heard you were ill, so I brought you some food,’ Harry said, holding up a takeaway bag to emphasise his point. ‘Good thing I’m here, too — you look like death warmed over.’

‘Aren’t you worried you’ll fall ill too?’

‘I will have you know that I possess a remarkable immune system.’

‘And _I_ will have you know that suspended agents are supposed to stay clear of Kingsman personnel until they return, since you never seem to actually read our bylaws,’ Merlin said, but let Harry in anyway.

‘But then what would you do with the spare time you would have on your hands if I didn’t need reminding of the rules?’ Harry asked in return as he busied himself with setting the table. ‘Come, eat. I made sure to get your favourite.’

It was a testament to how advanced Merlin’s illness was that he didn’t register until after he’d wolfed down the dinner that the restaurant it came from did not do takeaway.

‘How on earth did you wangle that?’ he asked later that evening, as Harry prepared some tea for him while he lay on the sofa trying not to die.

‘You’ve taken care of me enough times, I figured it was about time I returned the favour. Drink your tea.’

‘Yes, mother,’ Merlin said with mock sullenness. ‘You don’t need to do this —‘

‘You don’t understand. I have been so bored these last two weeks. There is only so much daytime television available for consumption, and I have already read every single book I own. Twice. Mister Pickle is off at the vet’s until tomorrow, so I don’t even have _him_ around. Having something to do is a blessed relief.’ He sat himself on the floor, leaning on the sofa by Merlin’s feet, and sighed dramatically.

Merlin rolled his eyes, picked up a folder he had brought back from the office, and tossed it to Harry. ‘Here’s something you can do. I’m working on a suit that also acts as an antenna for comms using special fabric. It should double our working range. Since you’ll be the one wearing it, I’d love to see what you think about the schematics.’

Harry’s eyes brightened at the prospect of work. ‘Where do you keep your writing implements?’ 

Merlin threw a pencil in his direction and curled up on the sofa as the meds and the tea finally took effect. ‘Thank you for all this. Sorry I’m not better company at the moment. I’m just so tired.’

‘Not to worry; this will keep me busy. Get some rest. I’ll let myself out later,’ Harry replied as he pored over the pages with great interest.

Merlin, glad for the help, fell back asleep.

* * *

When he woke up in the morning, feeling much more human than the day before, Harry was still there. Asleep on the floor, surrounded by pages full of unexpectedly legible annotations. He looked peaceful, content; Merlin wondered if he looked like this before he woke up the night they ended up together. If he did, he was sorry that he missed it.

He allowed himself a few more moments to take the sight in before he nudged Harry. ‘It’s 9am. Please get off of my floor.’

Harry blinked himself to wakefulness slowly and took stock of his surroundings. ‘Dreadfully sorry. I meant to leave soon after you were asleep, but I couldn’t stop going over these,’ he said once he had gathered his wits. ‘Your work is remarkable.’

‘It has to be, so you don’t complain. Up you get,’ Merlin said, offering a hand to Harry, who took it and pulled himself up.

Harry ran his fingers through his frankly ridiculous hair in an attempt to look more presentable, which only made it worse. Then his phone buzzed.

‘Ah, Mister Pickle is ready to be picked up.’

Merlin didn’t miss the way his face lit up. _He really loves that little bugger._ ‘Go get him, then. Lord knows you could use the company.’

‘Are you sure? I should tidy up these papers.’

‘I can take care of this; I’m feeling much better. Go!’

‘All right then. See you in two weeks.’ Harry picked up his coat, gave his hair one last once-over, and walked out.

 _Well, at least that wasn't too awkward. Baby steps back to friendship._ Merlin sighed, and started to gather up the papers. Harry’s comments were surprisingly insightful — pointing out a vulnerability here, suggesting better access points there – and he could incorporate them in his first prototype.

However, there was a page missing. No matter, he had copies and could just print it out again, but he really had no idea where it may have ended up. Maybe Harry accidentally took one. He’d ask about it when they were both back on duty.


	4. I had a stilted, pretending day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur ruins things.

‘So good of you to join us, Agent Galahad. And only 23 minutes late this time,’ Arthur said as Harry walked into the first briefing since coming back from his hiatus.

‘I’m sure I missed nothing important,’ was his smug reply. A few of the agents smirked at this, feeling the same way but being much more diplomatic about it.

‘I know you don’t think these briefings are worth your precious time —’

‘Oh, not at all, Arthur!’

‘—but they _are_ protocol, if you would be so kindly reminded. Now please. Take your seat.’

Harry sat down, almost but not quite sulking like a child, as the meeting resumed. Merlin found the sniping almost comforting, like a return to normalcy. He looked forward to helping Harry through missions again, and afterwards taking some time off in Merlin’s office, with Harry listening to his complaints about Arthur and offering some advice on how he can leverage the subtle, cutting warfare of the upper class.

‘Not to intrude on what I’m sure is a delightful daydream, Merlin, but could I trouble you for the progress on the new underground transports?’ Arthur’s tone was so full of politeness that it could only have been meant with venom. Merlin realised that he had inadvertently lost concentration. _Right in the middle of a briefing; some wizard you are._

‘Apologies — simply finalising a few details. The new routes have been laid out, and we should be able to install the pods in 96 hours. For anyone who needs to know more, I would be happy to discuss with you offline,’ he said with all the confidence he could muster. He hoped he’d gotten away with it.

‘Very well,’ Arthur said, with a tone that said anything but. ‘That concludes this meeting. Dismissed.’ The remote agents flickered out of view, and the live agents gathered their papers and got up from the table. ‘Merlin, if you could stay behind for a few minutes?’

Harry, who was halfway out the door, glanced at him, concerned. Merlin shrugged. _I’ll be fine_ , he mouthed. Harry offered a slight nod and left.

‘I appreciate that you are wonderfully free from the shackles of etiquette, but if you could find it within yourself to at least try to behave like a proper Kingsman agent during our meetings, it would be much appreciated. By all of us.’

Merlin’s last shred of patience was being tested. While he shouldn’t have stopped paying attention during the briefing, being held back like a misbehaving schoolboy was an insult, and he’s sure Arthur intended it as such. Arthur did _everything_ deliberately. 

However, reacting badly was not an option. If he’s already in hot water with Arthur, there was no need to make things worse. ‘Apologies, Arthur. It’s been quite a week.’

‘I’m sure things will be better now that your … _friend_ … is back. Dismissed,’ he waved his hand and Merlin made his exit, wanting to be out of there as soon as possible.

* * *

Merlin always felt much more safe in his office, where he could be surrounded by things he’s worked on, shielded from the intrigue and bickering of the knights in the other wing. Right now, he needed to feel that, so he headed straight there. If Arthur meant any malice by insinuating that he had a less than proper relationship with —

‘Harry? What are you doing here?’

‘Avoiding Arthur, of course. Did the crotchety bastard reprimand you for falling asleep during his meeting today?’

Merlin suddenly felt defensive. ‘I did not fall asleep, for your information. And yes, he did tell me off. Quite rightly, too.’

Harry, noticing he’d touched a nerve, backed off. ‘All right, then. Well, I’m back now. I trust you can catch me up on what I’ve missed?’

‘If you’d shown up on time, you’d be caught up already,’ Merlin snapped as he sat at his desk.

’What did Arthur do? Is everything all right?’ Harry’s tone changed from jocular to concerned as he sat across from him.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘I think …’ he paused, searching for the right words. ‘I think Arthur harbours suspicions about us.’

‘He couldn’t possibly. On what basis?’

‘Probably you spending all your time here.’

‘I do _not_ spend that much time here.’

‘When was the last time you worked in your own office?’

‘Well, I _have_ been out for a month —’

‘Yet you come straight here.’

‘Good point.’

‘And what if somehow he’s figured out that we … well …’

‘I swear to you, I haven’t told a soul. Plus, it was a one-off. I’d almost forgotten about it.’

 _Well, there’s no need to rub it in. That rather hurts._ ‘Well, I’m sure the time off has made you rusty. I think it’s best if you spent the rest of the week concentrating on becoming field-ready.’

‘Away from you, you mean.’

‘I don’t want to distract from your work. And I sure as hell do _not_ want his suspicions further stoked. We can catch up once we’re assigned to a mission again.’

‘This is exactly what I did not want to happen! For a stupid drunken decision to get in the way of our working relationship!’

‘This is how I’m making sure it doesn’t! You hanging around here at all hours doesn’t exactly contribute to our _working relationship_. If anything, it harms it. So please, if you care about my future in Kingsman, you’ll do as I ask.’

‘Hamish —’

‘Don’t. You haven’t called me that in years. Not until —’ Merlin stopped himself when he suddenly remembered that Harry had called him by his real name that night. Several times.

Harry looked like he remembered the same thing. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not,’ Merlin said before he could stop himself. _Might as well go full steam ahead._ ‘And that’s why this is so damn difficult.’

Shock and silence from Harry for a while, until he cleared his throat and stood up. ‘I think I should go.’

‘Thank you.’

Harry closed the door gently behind him. Merlin yelled ‘Fuck!’ at nobody in particular, and threw a remote control at the door.

He hoped that wasn’t an important piece of equipment as he watched it shatter into a hundred pieces.


	5. You spill Jack and Coke in my collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a few things on his mind.

As Harry headed back to the agents’ wing of headquarters, he thought about how while he knew where he stood with everyone, he never quite knew where he stood with Merlin.

* * *

It wasn’t always like this. Harry, armed to the teeth as he was with the unearned self-confidence only good breeding could provide, carried himself full of serenity and poise. Sure of his place in the world, he breezed into any situation and made it his own, charming everyone so he can get his way. He never put a foot out of place. 

But Merlin kept wrong-footing him. When they first met, the handsome Scot absolutely refused to budge in the face of his charm offensive, which of course only led Harry to try even harder to get his attention. And he _never_ tries. He was so impressed with Merlin’s ability to create a new bulletproof textile _just for him_ , and with Merlin’s unfairly attractive brogue, that Harry decided to keep asking him to do impossible things, if only to spend more time with him.

Merlin, because he was brilliant, kept delivering. But he never responded to any of Harry’s good-natured flirting, and Harry, being a gentleman through and through, would not venture where he wasn’t wanted.

What Merlin did respond to was companionship. At first, he seemed to merely tolerate Harry’s presence, but once Harry showed genuine interest in Merlin’s work, he seemed to relax. Much more relaxed than in Arthur’s presence, anyway. It didn’t take a genius to sense the tension there, so every once in a while, Harry would step in with a cutting comment that Arthur would only realise was an insult well after the conversation was over, or defend Merlin to the other agents. Not that he needed to do the latter very much; everyone else loved Merlin.

And, because he is a careless idiot, so did Harry.

But since Merlin never seemed to return his affections, Harry never said anything. 

So one could forgive Harry for being wrong-footed once again when Merlin kissed him the night they were celebrating his first training class. It was sheer force of will that pulled him away from the man’s lips that night, given how perfect they felt against his own. He slipped his address to a disappointed, devastatingly rumpled Merlin, walked out of the men’s, said his goodbyes to the rest of the party, and called himself a taxi, hoping to God that he would follow soon.

The taxi ride was unbearably long.

Once safely home, he poured himself a whisky. Not that he needed any more. He thought of Merlin tossing his address in the bin, writing off his pass at Harry as a drunken folly and going back to celebrate with his techs. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so good, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

He thought of Merlin in Kingsman HQ asking for a transfer to a different field agent, and had another drink.

He thought he heard the doorbell ring.

‘Hamish,’ he found himself saying upon seeing the man himself on his doorstep, savouring the feel of name on his tongue.

He didn’t remember much after that.

He did remember waking up with his arm draped over a softly snoring Scotsman, and thinking he’d like to wake up every morning just like that. 

But liaisons within Kingsman were _frowned upon_ , which, in their parlance, was worse than actual prohibition. Breaking codified rules was one thing; breaking unwritten laws, unconscionable.

And Harry was sure that Arthur would immediately use it to undermine Merlin, who had spent the last five years toiling thanklessly, telling Harry that being the youngest Merlin in decades meant that he had to work twice as hard to impress the agents, and three times as hard to impress Arthur. Who single-handedly catapulted Kingsman tech to 10, 20 years ahead of any other agency’s capacity with his brilliance and bullheadedness. Without whom Kingsman would fall apart.

Harry didn’t want Merlin to risk any of that for a drunken night with the most belligerent agent in the organisation, so he did the smartest thing he could think of at the moment, which was, looking back on it, not very smart at all.

He snuck out of his own apartment.

When he returned, Merlin was gone. 

Harry couldn’t blame him for not wanting to hang around, but the empty bed still sent a pang of longing through him. To keep from being too despondent, he went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

He had already put the kettle on when he noticed that Mister Pickle’s bowl was half-full, and he was _certain_ he hadn’t filled it up that day yet. The little chap, his hunger sated, sat at Harry’s feet and looked up at him expectantly.

_Well, at least he doesn’t hate you_ , he thought, bending down and scratching behind his dog’s ears. _I don’t think I can say the same for myself._

* * *

Since he’d requested it, Harry gave Merlin some space. Unfortunately, this only gave Harry more time to brood over Merlin’s words. ‘I’m not,’ he’d said when Harry had apologised. The thought that Merlin did not regret their night together wrong-footed Harry back into being head over heels in love again. Not that he wasn’t, already; but he thought he’d done a good job ignoring it and getting on with his life. Perhaps a little _too_ good when he’d claimed that he’d forgotten about their one night stand already — as if he could ever. Even if most of the night was a hazy blur.

Not sure what to do next, he sighed and reached into a hidden compartment in his drawer to pull out a well-worn copy of _The Spy Who Came in from the Cold_ , because Harry Hart was nothing if not a cliche. He flipped to where his bookmark was.

> We have to live without sympathy, don’t we? That’s impossible, of course. We act it to one another, all this hardness; but we aren’t like that really. I mean … one can’t be out in the cold all the time; one has to come in from the cold … d’you see what I mean?

And if his bookmark turned out to be a folded sheet of of Merlin’s suit-antenna schematics with a drawing of a peaceful, sleeping Merlin, which he’d done some time after Merlin had passed out due to his medication and Harry had already gone over all the notes for the prototype but couldn’t bring himself to leave Merlin’s side just yet, well, that was for only Harry to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned for this series to be entirely Merlin's POV, but Harry Hart is an insistent git.


	6. Son, I've been hearing good things

Life as not-Harry’s-handler over the last few weeks came to Merlin with an unsettling ease. Tristan’s style was workmanlike, putting brute force over charm and cunning, but it suited the missions and Merlin just fine. He took directions from Merlin well, allowing the wizard more time to _not_ think about Harry.

All things considered, the last few weeks had been perfectly tolerable. He missed the companionship, sure, but his techs were perfectly good conversation, and during down times in missions when they had time to kill, Tristan wasn’t too bad as company either.

A small, traitorous part of Merlin wondered if _not too bad_ was the best he could hope for.

He crushed it and proceeded to direct Tristan through a maze of laser sensors in the Kremlin.

* * *

‘Ah, Merlin. Come in.’

Merlin hated being in Arthur’s office, but unfortunately they had a standing once-a-month meeting and neither of them could postpone any longer. Ever since his fight with and subsequent avoidance of Harry, Arthur had been piling a lot of extra work on Merlin. Not that his ability to deliver pleased Arthur — in fact, he looked disappointed every time Merlin was able to fulfil his demands.

He wondered what insane task was waiting for him today.

‘I need you to get two prototype umbrellas into deployment stage as soon as possible. Urgent mission for Gawain in four days.’

‘But sir, we’re barely finished with one and —’

‘Are you dismissing the urgency of the mission?’

 _I don’t even know what the damn mission is!_ ‘Not as such —’

‘Then it’s settled. I expect them on my desk in 72 hours. I mustn’t detain you any longer.’

Merlin heard the dismissal and left, already thinking about how to complete the request at such short notice. He may need to borrow Emrys for a day and forgo some of the more elaborate features he’d planned for, but he could just about do it.

* * *

He just about did it. With a few hours left, Emrys had put the finishing touches on the umbrellas, and Merlin had sent him home; the kid needed a break. When the tech had left, he sent a message to Gawain asking him to stop by.

‘These are fantastic, Merlin!’ the agent said with glee, shooting at targets with the umbrellas and pleased by the speed and accuracy. ‘They’ll be perfect for the Argentinian ambassador mission next week.’

‘Wait. Next week? Arthur said your mission was tomorrow. I had to build these in three days!’

Gawain looked puzzled, but unsurprised. ‘Well, you’ve always been terrific at this sort of thing. I expect he was testing you.’

‘I’ve been here five years, Gawain. He shouldn’t need to test me any more,’ Merlin said, exasperated.

‘I wonder if he’s testing how you’ll perform without Harry to run to.’

‘And what do you mean by that?’

‘Oh, don’t look at me that way. Techs being friends with agents is perfectly fine in my book. I haven’t seen him around here lately, however. Usually the two of you are thick as thieves. Or spies, one supposes,’ Gawain quipped, laughing at his own joke.

‘We had a disagreement. Besides, it’s good for Arthur to know I can function without Harry fighting my battles for me.’

‘He already knows you’re capable.’ He sat across from Merlin. ‘I’ve been here much longer than you have, and I know when Arthur’s winding someone up. All I’m saying is, he’s _always_ going to do this to you, so it’s really up to you if you want to deal with it alone, or with someone in your corner.’

The older agent stood up, extending his hand, which Merlin shook. ‘Thank you for your work on these umbrellas. Even if Arthur doesn’t value you … you must know that everybody else does,’ he said, with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Merlin didn’t like to think of himself as an egotistical person, but the thought comforted him. ‘You’re getting soft, old man,’ he said warmly.

‘Whatever it takes to keep you making these excellent gadgets for me,’ Gawain chuckled as he left the lab. ‘I’ll tell Arthur you did a fantastic job.’

Merlin lingered in his lab, putting everything to rights that he’d upended in the frantic last few days.

When he couldn’t put it off any more, he hoped he still remembered the right address, and headed to Harry’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one or two more chapters to go. If you're still reading, thank you so much for your patience; I know it's been a while!


	7. All we've got to do is be brave and be kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Merlin finally have a conversation.

The closer Merlin got to Harry’s flat, the less confident he felt in his decision to approach the man head-on.

_This is stupid. I should turn back._

Nevertheless, he found himself on Harry’s doorstep, hand hovering over the knocker.

But before he could either knock or walk away, he heard a familiar, excited yapping, and knew that Mister Pickle had given him away.

_No turning back now._

The door opened, and Merlin was greeted by a mildly surprised Harry, who still managed to look elegant in pyjamas and a dressing gown, despite the tousled hair.

Merlin fumbled for something to say. ‘You shouldn’t just open your door to anyone, you know. What if I’d been a hostile?’

‘Then Mister Pickle would _not_ have barked in that fashion, and I would have shot you through the door. Several times.’

‘Noted. May I come in?’

Harry hesitated. Merlin panicked a little bit. _Fuck, I shouldn’t have come here._

After few agonising seconds, Harry stepped back and held the door open wider. As Merlin stepped inside, Mister Pickle barked excitedly and sat in front of Merlin, wagging his tail.

‘He wants you to pick him up. He likes you,’ Harry said, closing the door behind them and ducking through a doorway.

Merlin scooped up the dog, who proceeded to lick his face. After Mr Pickle had had his fill, he squirmed, and Merlin put him down so he could run off back to his napping spot upstairs. He looked around but Harry had disappeared.

‘In the kitchen,’ Harry called out, so he went. There were two glasses of whiskey on the kitchen island, and Merlin took one and drank it.

‘You may be wondering why I’m here,’ he said, as an opening salvo.

‘Given that we haven’t spoken in weeks, rather,’ Harry replied, expression remaining blank.

Merlin finished his drink, steeling himself. ‘Being in Kingsman is hard, especially when Arthur’s got a target on your back. But your friendship over the last few years has helped me get through the worst of it. Things were good before I … had too much to drink and behaved inappropriately.’

Harry sipped his drink, kept his eyes on Merlin, and remained nonchalant. Merlin went on.

‘And I apologise unreservedly. There’s no place for that in Kingsman. I shouldn’t have behaved that way, and I shouldn’t have said I wasn’t sorry about it. I shouldn’t have let it affect our work. Will you forgive me?’ He’d never felt more vulnerable in his life.

Harry’s expression was still inscrutable, and he still didn’t say a word.

‘For God’s sake, say something.’

‘I don’t quite understand what I ought to forgive you for,’ Harry said after what felt like forever. 

‘Don’t play coy, not now,’ Merlin retorted, irritated that his vulnerability was being toyed with.

‘I do _not_ play coy. I’m genuinely confused. What are you apologising for? Rejecting my friendship? Refusing to work with me? “Behaving inappropriately”? I would love to know so I can respond accordingly.’

‘All of it!’ Merlin yelled. ‘All of it! I’m sorry I was such a mistake to you that you snuck out _of your own fucking flat_. I’m sorry I have feelings for you. I’m so sorry for everything. I promise never to act on any of it as long as things go back to normal. Are you satisfied? Can we move on now?’ 

Merlin took a few breaths to calm down, went over to the whiskey bottle, and poured himself another drink. ‘Dear Lord, I can’t believe I’m arguing with you to let me be your friend again,’ he muttered, downing the drink and slamming the glass on the counter. ‘This was a horrible idea. I should go. I … I promise to remain professional, even if you won’t accept my apology. I will miss our friendship, however.’ He headed to the front door, wanting to be out of Harry’s flat as soon as possible.

‘I never said you were a mistake,’ Harry said to his retreating back.

‘What?’

‘You were never the mistake. The mistake was me running.’

Merlin couldn’t believe what he’d heard. He looked back at Harry, leaning against the counter. The man was no longer inscrutable; instead, he was pained but also relieved, the confession appearing to take a large part of his burden away.

‘I thought absenting myself would be the best for you. Both of us pretend it never happened and we carry on. I didn’t take into account it would mean something to you, too. But when you said you didn’t regret it and then didn’t talk to me for weeks … I concluded that despite whatever you may have felt for me, you’d decided you wanted nothing to do with me. I thought you _hated_ me for putting you in a difficult position. Which was fair enough. I also tend to be a difficult person. I understand why you would prefer to not have to deal with me.’

‘You ramble when you’re worried, have you ever noticed that about yourself?’ Merlin said, sitting across the kitchen island from Harry.

‘I hardly think this is the time for pithy observations about my personality; I’m trying to be earnest, if you’d be so kind.’

‘In that case, please, go on,’ Merlin said, trying to appear flippant while his heart raced in anticipation of what Harry would say.

‘You created an entirely new textile for me.’

He didn’t know what he was expecting from Harry, but that wasn’t it. His puzzlement must have shown on his face, since Harry laughed.

‘You don’t even remember, do you? You’re so effortlessly brilliant that that was nothing to you, but you had me from that moment.’

Merlin thought for a while, not sure what to say, heart still racing. ‘Ah, I remember! Doing that was quite simple, actually, only a matter of reproducing the tensile strength of the fibres with some artificial —‘

‘You fall back into technobabble when you’re nervous, have you ever noticed that about yourself?’

Harry’s humour lightened Merlin’s mood. ‘Fair play,’ he conceded.

‘Thank you. Why would you want anything to do with me?’

‘Because you’re the finest person I know,’ Merlin said simply.

Harry was momentarily stunned into silence, not expecting a sincere answer from his randomly asked question. Eventually, he recovered. ‘You’re too kind.’

‘I’m really not.’

Merlin and Harry regarded each other, the kitchen island between them.

‘What now?’ Harry asked.

‘If I recall correctly, what we’ve concluded is that you don’t think I’m a mistake and I have feelings for you.’

‘A good a place as any to start. I’m quite certain my parents married each other for less, and they produced an exemplary child.’

‘What about Arthur?’

‘I wasn’t planning on taking out an advertisement in the company newsletter, were you?’

‘I’m being serious, Harry.’

‘I promise not to do anything at work that compromises us. Or you, especially.’

‘Thank you.’ Merlin couldn’t help but sigh in relief; hearing Harry say it out loud put him at ease.

‘But neither of us is at work right now,’ Harry said, walking around the island to stand in front of Merlin, who loosely grasped Harry’s gown by the lapels, absentmindedly stroking the fabric between his fingers, feeling Harry’s quickening heartbeat.

They stood like that for a while, until Merlin leaned in and pressed his lips against Harry’s, both of them too emotionally wrung out to do anything more than share a gentle kiss. They broke apart and Merlin wrapped Harry in an embrace, swaying slightly.

‘I don’t know how we’re going to do this,’ Merlin said, holding him tighter.

‘We’re spies, Hamish. We’ll figure it out.’


	8. Look at me, baby, we'll be fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the beginning.

Merlin was careful immediately after; instead of taking on Harry’s assignments wholesale, he managed to gain unofficial oversight of all the handlers, affording him visibility on Harry without direct responsibility. He'd already built up the relationship with the handlers, and since he already took charge of all the techs, strengthening the relationship and consolidating his authority would only be a matter of time. He would make it official in 18 months; his glide path was already planned out to ensure that Arthur wouldn’t notice the increase in Merlin’s standing until it was already irrevocable. _He'll be livid_ , Merlin thought, and it warmed the darker portions of his heart.

With a long-term plan, at least professionally, Merlin found it much more within his capacity to remain properly distant when it came to Harry in the workplace. _Turns out I’m good at compartmentalisation after all_.

Harry, however, was a different story. After one too many barbed jibes from Arthur to Merlin during the staff meeting, Harry’s mouth quirked as if to say something — but a sharp glance from Merlin stopped him short. 

‘Dismissed,’ Arthur finally said, and the live agents filed out of the meeting room, remote agents logging off. Harry and Merlin headed in opposite directions, though Merlin noticed Harry hesitate for a split second before walking off.

* * *

Dinner that night was at Merlin’s, over Chinese takeaway, both of them too tired to make dinner themselves.

‘How is it so easy for you to remain aloof at work?’ Harry asked him from his comfortable seat on the sofa, trying to pick out the last piece of lemon chicken from the bottom of the box.

‘It’s not,’ Merlin responded, leaning over and stealing the chicken with his chopsticks, popping it into his mouth and smiling at Harry’s aghast face.

‘That was mine!’ Harry said helplessly as Merlin just kept eating. Taking advantage of Merlin’s preoccupation, he brought himself back to his original topic. ‘I find myself wanting to protect you constantly. These days I find myself much more sensitive to Arthur’s hostility towards you, and it is difficult not to inflict bodily harm upon him every time he says an unkind word about you. How have you been able to put up with it all these years?’

‘I haven’t had it easy, even before joining Kingsman. You get used to it.’

‘I wish you didn’t have to.’

‘And I wish I could kiss the living daylights out of you in the middle of boring meetings to spice things up and perhaps see Arthur keel over and die from an anger-induced embolism, but alas.’

Harry smiled. ‘I will think about that next time I am beset with the urge to strike Arthur with an umbrella. It should quell my rage. I _did_ promise not to bring undue risk to us.’

Merlin reached for his hand and squeezed in silent gratitude, before speaking up again. ‘You know what _does_ make it easier for me? No matter what Arthur says or does, I get through it as I always have — but now, at the end of the day, I have you. And that’s enough.’

‘But how long will it be enough for?’

‘As long as we need it to be. Just as you said. We’ll figure it out. It won’t be easy, but we knew that.’ He pulled Harry closer, and the agent snuggled up to him, resting his head on his shoulder, where he fit perfectly. They stayed there, breathing in unison, comfortable in the silence.

‘Though, I must admit … I enjoy the thought of you wanting to defend my honour through violence,’ Merlin said after a while.

‘I _am_ a modern gentleman. Far be it from me to allow the object of my affections to be sullied so.’

Merlin started nuzzling Harry’s ear. ‘But _you_ can sully me all you like,’ he whispered playfully.

Harry, eyes widening, all but sprinted to Merlin’s bedroom, pulling the wizard along, knocking over some half-empty takeaway boxes in their haste.

‘Worry about them tomorrow,’ Harry said to a worried Merlin. ‘There’s sullying to be done.’

Merlin was always helpless when it came to big brown eyes staring at him asking for something.

He didn’t end up cleaning until the next afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading. And being patient. I wasn't quite sure where I wanted it to go, but I think it ended up where it needed to be.


End file.
